Inner Demons
by EnchantedLucy
Summary: Taking place in Pocahontas II:Journey to a New World, this is a one shot of an argument that conspired between John Smith and Pocahontas after the former reveals himself to be alive.


Inner Demons

 **Hey, guys! Just thought I'd chime in with a little vent fic. I got into it really bad with a very close friend of mine and I'm still reeling from the emotional damage. I feel like I've been torn apart. I played a part in that fight, too, but I'm hurting pretty badly right now. I feel like I'm bleeding internally. It hurts so much that it's not even funny. It's times like this that I wish I weren't so emotionally sensitive. Anyway, here ya go.**

 **This little gem takes place during Pocahontas II: Journey to Sink My Ship… Yeah, I'm not a fan of the ending. Anyway, this is after Pocahontas discovers that John Smith is indeed alive and he breaks her out of the prison cell and they take shelter at the cabin. Enjoy!**

Pocahontas stood in the cabin, completely flabbergasted. And damn it, she had every right to be! Not even so much as a sign or a letter or ANYTHING that he was alive! John didn't even bother with any kind of apology after he faked his death and put Pocahontas through emotional hell. After the moments they shared, that he could just leave her like that! Didn't he care about her at all? Evidently not, or he would have found some type of way to reach out to her. She was so angry that she couldn't properly express it.

"How could you?!" she finally shouted.

"How could I?! How could I?!" John asked, like Pocahontas had committed some egregious crime just by asking that.

Bastard. He had a lot of nerve to play innocent after all of the times Pocahontas cried herself to sleep. She insisted that John was alive all those times and was finally coming to terms with the fact that he was gone in that cell, when he had to go and reveal that he was after all. It was like he was toying with her emotions.

"Yes! How could you, after every moment we had together, just vanish like it meant nothing without so much as a word?"

"It's not like I had a choice in the matter," he exclaimed, yelling right back at her. "And you know better than I do that if I had written any letters to you, Ratcliffe would have had his men intercept them and you and your father and the rest of your people would have been as good as dead! In case you haven't noticed, these people do not play nice!"

Everything John said was true. With the demand for natural resources growing, John would have been taking a chance that would have cost his love her very life if he had made the slightest lapse in judgment. He couldn't risk it. He loved her too much. She had taught him that life is precious and that it needs to be preserved. He had to live by that. But good god was she making him angry. What the hell was he supposed to do? Even if there was no threat to Virginia, he was dying of an infection. How the hell was he supposed to put a quill to paper when he could barely keep food down?

After a few more shouts and curses were tossed about on either side, John was finally fed up.

"You're being ridiculous! This conversation is over!" he said before turning to walk away.

Pocahontas, on the other hand, was far from done. No way in hell John was walking away without a full explanation and the biggest apology she's ever heard in her life.

"Get back here!" she demanded before being met with a slap across the face. John didn't even realise what he'd done until after the fact. But it was done.

Rolfe, who was trying to stay out of the verbal argument, knew that it was time to step in.

"That's enough! You NEVER raise your hand to a woman!" Rolfe chided. "There is NOTHING that makes that okay! Since you want to hit a woman, let's see how tough you REALLY are!"

Rolfe to a hand-to-hand combat stance, and John didn't hesitate to do the same.

"Okay, let's go!" he said, cracking his knuckles. He was gonna put this little redheaded shit in his place once and for all.

Before any punches could be thrown, however, Uttamatomakkin stepped in. "That's enough, Both of you. Can't you see that you've only upset her?"

Both Johns turned to see Pocahontas storm out of the sitting room and into an adjacent bedroom.

"What an asshole!" Pocahontas thought as she practically ripped off that heavy nightmare of a dress. She yanked all of the adornments out of her hair and realised just how unsightly she looked when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her makeup was streaking everywhere, probably from the rain. There was also a very distinct impression from where John had slapped her.

She just wanted to get all that crap off of her face. She opened a window and, with the rain pouring down like cats and dogs, stuck her whole torso out, naked exposed breasts and all. She didn't even care who might have seen. This whole country was so ridiculous to her.

She enjoyed the sensation of the rain. She always has. Even as a little child. It was soothing in it's own way. Every therapeutic drop felt so good. Eventually, she brought her torso back in and saw that her face was clean. Her hair was drenched, she was shivering and she had goose bumps all over, but that crap was off of her face.

Pocahontas wrung her hair as dry as she could and searched for something warm to wear. All she could find were John's shirts. Sigh. Beggars couldn't be choosers. She slipped on the warmest one she could find and slipped into the sheets of the cosy bed. She curled into foetal position and felt tears rushing to her eyes. John abandoned her and then slapped her when all she asked was an explanation. He didn't even bother to apologise. He was supposed to love her and he SLAPPED her. That jerk!

Before her thoughts could continue, she felt the door creak open. All she had to see was a hint of that golden blonde hair to know who it was.

"Go away…" Pocahontas said, her voice cracking from crying. John inched closer and she pulled the sheets over her head in response.

"I'm sorry…" John said, looking and feeling pretty sheepish. "I shouldn't have hit you… but you kept pushing and pushing and I tried to walk away…"

No response. Pocahontas merely hugged the pillow under the sheets.

"Please say something…" John said.

Nothing.

Feeling frustrated, John ripped away the covers and looked. That postion she was in reminded him of something. When he finally put his finger on it, though, he felt like dirt. That very position reminded John that Pocahontas turned against her father for him. The man that had raised her on his own since her mother's untimely death. And she stood against him entirely for John. Unable to bear this any longer, John yanked his lover up to face him.

Her eyes were red and puffy. They were also lifeless. That sense of wonder in her eyes was all but gone.

If "My god what have I done?" faces had a name, it was John Smith. It wasn't just that he slapped her. It was that he faked his death without so much as a word to her. And then he slapped her. It was that she was dragged to this crappy godforsaken country at least 4 months away from any family that cares for her. And then he slapped her. It was that she was powerless to bear witness to Ratcliffe having permission to mess with her country and people some more. And then he slapped her. It was that she was thrown in a fucking prison cell for standing up for an animal that was being tortured. And then he slapped her. All she wanted was an explanation, and then he SLAPPED her.

He tried to get letters to her, but… Oh god damn it. Now is not the time for that. He took one look at her and it was apparent. "I'm an awful person," he finally said.

"What makes you say that?" Pocahontas said, her voice cold and lifeless.

"Because you had a light inside of you. A light that I could not have imagined would reach me," he started and sighed. "This is all my fault. This damned darkness… You wouldn't understand. This darkness I have. It wouldn't so much as survive inside of you. It thrives inside of me. I let it do the talking way more than I should. I have thoughts and feelings about people that you can't even fathom. Your light is gone and it's all my fault. I snuffed it out of you over my own selfish desires. I destroyed something beautiful because I couldn't hold back my anger for 2 bloody seconds. If you never forgive me, I wouldn't blame you," John hung his head in shame. "This whole ordeal was hell to you and I just wanted you to back off…"

Pocahontas heard enough. She pulled the sheets over her head and resumed cuddling her pillow.

John knew that if he wanted to fix things, it was going to take a lot of work and it sure as hell wasn't gonna be easy. Not in the least. He couldn't just leave it like that, though.

Pocahontas continued to hug her pillow tightly when she felt John spoon her from behind and kiss her on the ear. The goosebumps ran through her body.

"I love you…" He said, before stroking her ebony black hair and letting her go.

As he walked out, he could have sworn he heard a faint "I love you, too," coming from the bed.


End file.
